“Pale hands I loved beside the Shalimar.
Where are you now? Who lies beneath your spell?
Whom do you lead on Rapture's roadway, far,
Before you agonise them in farewell?”

“Pooh, how do you spell love?' 'You don't spell love Piglet, you feel it”

“Poems in a way are spells against death. They are milestones, to see where you were then from where you are now. To perpetuate your feelings, to establish them. If you have in any way touched the central heart of mankind's feelings, you'll survive.”

“Did you plan your leads, or, for that matter, do you plan them now?
No. The only planning I do is about a minute before I play. I desperately try to think of something that will be effective, but I never sit down and work it out note for note.”

“Some men abuse women, but you should never raise your hand against them. You do not know how much they bear—they are forbearance itself. If you abuse them, where shall they turn? They are aspects of the Divine Mother, and if the Mother is insulted, the Lord is displeased. Thus your well-being lies in making them happy.”

“Where exactly do you put your hands on somebody who hurts everywhere?”

“Do you love me Hero?" His pale green eyes were full of torment. "Do you love me like I love you?”

“Do you love this world?
Do you cherish your humble and silky life?
Do you adore the green grass, with its terror beneath?”

“Say make me, remake me. You are free to do it and I am free to let you because look, look. Look where your hands are. Now.”

“Be the silent watcher of your thoughts and behavior. You are beneath the thinker. You are the stillness beneath the mental noise. You are the love and joy beneath the pain.”